


The Lost Spring

by hero_of_the_wild



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-07-28 08:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20061100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hero_of_the_wild/pseuds/hero_of_the_wild
Summary: There are rumours of a hidden spring deep in the Gerudo Wasteland, but Urbosa forbids Zelda from trying to find it, as even her best soldiers have perished in that area of the desert. Determined that this spring may be the answer to her prayers that the Goddess has ignored, Zelda and Link set out anyway, unaware of the true dangers the unforgiving desert presents.





	1. A Reckless Endeavor

**Author's Note:**

> This should be a fairly short fic (around 5-6 chapters), so if you're looking for a short adventure story, this is for you! Feel free to leave any comments and constructive feedback in the comments. I hope you enjoy!

**I- A Reckless Endeavor**

Deep in the desert, swathed by vast dunes turned silver in the moonlight, stood a solitary city. It was protected by high walls of clay bricks, and each entrance was guarded by a formidable woman in gold armour, each wielding a wickedly sharp spear. These women, their skin bronzed by the merciless sun, their hair the colour of the rich wine rumoured to flow within the fountains of the city, were tasked with enforcing the most ancient law of Gerudo Town: no men were allowed within its walls. As the city slept, the sentries stood watch, keeping back the small throngs of men camped near the outskirts.

The market square lay pale and empty in the night, except for a few straggling tourists teetering back to the inn, their liquor-soaked giggles echoing off the clay buildings. The steps to the Gerudo chief’s palace were of the same white marble as the square, and if one stood at the foot of those steps and gazed upwards, towards the easternmost spire of the palace, they might spot a golden head peering furtively from her window.

The girl was not watching the square, but the sentry at the western entrance to the city. The crescent moon was almost directly overhead, meaning that a young warrior called Alba was about to relieve the current guard.

Alba had clearly been distressed by the girl’s request—after all, it was Princess Zelda herself asking the favour. But Alba, as a Gerudo woman, owed allegiance to Lady Urbosa, who had explicitly forbid Zelda from leaving the city unless accompanied by a guide. But the guides had all refused to take Zelda where she needed to go… so what else was she to do?

Zelda was sympathetic to the uncomfortable position she was putting Alba in. It begged the awkward question of who held more authority—the future heir to Hyrule’s throne, or the chief of the Gerudo Wastes? However, a quick flash of golden rupees had quickly silenced any scruples on the sentry’s behalf.

A figure emerged from the barracks, slightly short for a Gerudo and glancing about skittishly—it was time to go. Zelda ducked away from the window, shedding her housecoat to reveal a gauzy white dress that stuck uncomfortably to her legs in the heat. Carefully, she tied the hem into a knot above her waist, slipping on a set of leggings. There was a cloak, made of a special material meant to keep the wearer cool in warm weather and vice versa in cold; Zelda swept it about her shoulders, hiding her distinctive hair beneath the hood. Most precious of the limited gear she took with her she slipped into a hidden sheath sewn into her boot: a delicate dagger, the jade handle carved in the shape of an owl. It had been a birthday gift from Urbosa, and until now, Zelda had found little use for it.

Belting her day’s provisions around her waist, Zelda cast her gaze about the room drenched in finery, ensuring that she had not forgotten anything. Satisfied, she made for the door, her newly made sand-boots creaking with each step.

The tower’s stairwell was a tight spiral, made so that one could not see around the other side. For anyone unused to such a design, it would make for a claustrophobic, nauseating descent, but much of Hyrule Castle’s towers were built the same. But so it was that Zelda did not see the person coming up the stairs until she’d collided with them.

The figure let out a soft _huh!_, and Zelda had no time to even yelp before the pair of them tumbled down the rest of the steps. Zelda’s limbs tangled in her cloak; a starburst of white light exploded behind her eyes as the wall connected with her forehead. She landed on the person’s front, saving her from crunching bone on the marble floor. Zelda rolled away, groaning.

Her vision was blurred, but gradually a concerned pair of blue eyes swam into view. She blinked, and the rest of sir Link’s veiled face came into focus.

“Zelda?” Her knight gently touched her forehead, his fingertips coming away bloody.

She forced herself upright, ignoring the throbbing ache all over her body. “You have your own quarters!” she whispered furiously. “What are you doing here?”

Link sat back on his heels, assured that she was not seriously injured. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Zelda dragged herself to her feet, fuming. Link continued to kneel, giving her a guileless look. He was dressed in a blue linen gown and the lower half of his face was covered by a gauzy veil, his attire perfectly matching Zelda’s handmaids'. “I-I was going to use the lavatory.”

“That’s _actually _what I was doing before I came up here to check on you,” said Link, rising. His elbow was scraped and bloody—Zelda felt a pang of guilt. “I saw you paying off that soldier in the barracks to take you to the spring.”

There was no point in lying—not to Link. Zelda shifted uncomfortably. “Er, not quite. I was only paying her to allow me to leave.”

Link blinked. “You’re going _alone?_”

Zelda gritted her teeth, finding herself missing the days where he was silent in her presence. “What else am I to do?” she hissed. “My prayers at the Springs of Courage and Power were in vain, and I cannot visit Mount Lanayru until I turn seventeen. Nobody will escort me into this bloody desert—”

“I’ll take you.”

All of Zelda’s frustration dissipated into bewilderment. “You’ll what?”

Link shrugged. “I was only waiting for you to ask me to come after I saw you paying her off. I never thought you’d actually try to go alone, not after what happened last time…”

The sunlight slicing off the assassin’s blade as he raised it, the soft laughter from behind the mask as he prepared to cut her down—it was a memory that would haunt her for the rest of her days. Zelda hung her head, abashed. _No wonder I’m not allowed access to the Goddess of Wisdom’s domain._

“I’m sorry, Princess,” said Link, his posture suddenly stiffening. “I forget my place—”

“Stop that,” Zelda ordered, shaking her head. “I thought we were past that. You’re right—I was foolish and reckless. I should have consulted you first. _I’m _sorry, Link.”

To her surprise, a slight blush appeared on the tips of the knight’s ears. “That’s all right,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “What was your plan originally?”

Zelda’s eyes went to the window of the foyer, where yet more drunken tourists were passing by. Closing time at the canteen, she supposed. “Why don’t I fill you in tomorrow?” she suggested. A slight smile played across her lips. “After all, it’s late—the other maidens will be missing you.”

Link’s ears turned an even deeper pink. “Ah. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Goodnight, Princess.”

Once his back was turned, Zelda fully grinned, forcing herself to keep back a giggle. Who knew that Link could be so easily flustered?

Back in her bed, Zelda lay awake, cross and uncomfortable in the dry heat. Her mind drifted to Link’s predicament of sharing a room with three women. Three young, attractive, unmarried women… There was a stab of some ugly, unfamiliar emotion in the place of the amusement she’d felt earlier.

Officially, the Royal Guard were not allowed to fraternise with women and required the permission of the king to marry, although that rule was rarely enforced. Link undoubtedly had his fair share of feminine attention; he was an attractive man, with delicate features and clear blue eyes. Zelda rolled over, staring listlessly out the window at the crescent moon. It wasn’t any of her business what sir Link did while he was off duty, so why was she even thinking about it?

She turned again, restless, wondering why she was plagued with sudden jealousy. Perhaps it was just the heat.


	2. Hands of a Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I did add a small change to chapter one! It never hurts to refresh yourself on the previous chapter when a new one is posted, but I did want to give you all a heads up on the slight edit. 
> 
> This chapter was a lot of work to write, but also a lot of fun! I hope you all are as happy with it as I am.

**II- Hands of a Warrior**

It was yet another sweltering morning; the Sheikah Slate, a marvelous piece of technology small enough to fit in Zelda’s hands, informed her that it was +109 degrees. As she walked through the bustling marketplace, sweat soaking her underarms, she found herself longingly eyeing the traditional Gerudo clothing being pored over by a gaggle of Hylian tourists. The gossamer sleeves were inlaid with tiny sapphires, providing a cooling effect that made the arid weather more bearable. However, royal women were forbidden from showing their bare arms or legs in public. Only Zelda’s prayer dress was sleeveless, but few ever saw her wear it.

The dress in question was safely stowed in her satchel, alongside three water canteens. Link, disguised as he always was within the city walls, followed half a step behind her, carrying the heavy rucksack containing their tent, bedrolls, and the Master Sword, wrapped carefully in fabric to protect its edge. They wove through the crowds to the westernmost alley, where several walrus-like creatures with large crests atop their heads were penned. Zelda wrinkled her nose; their stink was abominable.

A Gerudo woman with vivid purple hair sashayed towards them, her smile glittering in the sunlight. “Welcome to the Sand-Seal Rental Shop! Only twenty rupees, and you can—oh! Your Highness!” She dropped into a deep curtsy—even bent at the waist, she towered over the pair of them. Zelda inclined her head.

“I'm honoured to have such an important patron,” said the woman. “Oh dear… whatever happened to your head, Princess?”

“I… I had a bit of a tumble down the stairs,” said Zelda ruefully. “I need to rent two of these creatures, please. And a sledge for each of us.”

The woman was already opening the gate to the pen. “Of course, your Highness! We have a two-for-one deal going on right now… oh. Hmm.” She furrowed her eyebrows, which were also dyed violet.

“Is there a problem?” Zelda asked politely.

“My apologies, Princess… but I recall getting word from Lady Urbosa herself that you’re not to leave the city limits…”

“Lady Urbosa is the one who sent me,” she lied. “Vah Naboris is having some equilibrium issues, and she asked me to run a full system diagnostic. I need to check the pistons on the legs as well, so I’ll be gone for at least a day and a night.”

The woman blinked, Zelda’s language clearly going over her head. She gazed out into the desert, where the mechanical giant stood immobile. “It isn’t that I don’t believe you, your Highness… It’s just that a soldier would usually pass this information on to me, and I’d already have the seals ready. I really must confirm this with the Lady…”

“I feel that would be a waste of all our time,” said Zelda firmly. “The desert is only growing hotter, and I would like to complete this diagnostic before sunup tomorrow.”

She could always see it, that exact moment when a person bent to her will. Anyone else may have been exhilarated by watching this woman deflate, but it only made Zelda feel guilty. She promised herself to personally ensure this shopkeeper was absolved of any guilt once her illicit outing was completed.

The seals were fitted with bridles and a set of reins, which were handed to them once the rupees were safely in the woman’s purse. Zelda gritted her teeth, adjusting her footing on the sledge. As horses and donkeys only floundered and sank in the sand, the only way to travel was by seal: that is, holding fast to the reins and standing upright on a sledge. Link made it look effortless, but Zelda could never quite get the balance right—and falling off, as she often did, was a brutal experience.

She snapped the reins the way she would for her stallion, Fionn, and the seal dove forward; if she had not already been leaning back, she would have been yanked off the sledge. Link followed, the hem of his linen dress flapping in the wind.

They headed in the general direction of Vah Naboris, but their true destination was a squat building with a frighteningly tall platform rising above it: an abandoned lookout post, from the days when Gerudo Town was subject to raids from nomadic tribes. There was no sign of a sandstorm, but Zelda was thankful she’d donned a pair of goggles before departing; they were tinted, protecting her eyes from the harsh whiteness of the dunes.

Zelda pulled sharply on the reins, forcing the creature to an abrupt stop—it yelped, fixing her with an indignant glare.

“Sorry,” she whispered, trying not to be annoyed as Link came to a gentle halt beside her.

“You certainly have a way with people,” he remarked, removing the veil from his face. “I reckon that shopkeeper would’ve kissed one of those seals if you’d asked her to.

It was a compliment Zelda could not feel good about. “I don’t like to manipulate people,” she said, pushing open the door. “I would never do it if our mission wasn’t so important.”

“I understand.” Link grinned mischievously, following her inside. “We really needed to ‘seal’ the deal.”

Zelda groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Seriously?”

“You mean ‘sealiously’?”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

Zelda picked up the bundle of clothes they’d stowed under the cot and tossed it at his chest, rolling her eyes. “Just get dressed. ‘Sealious’ was a stretch and you know it.”

She turned her back to Link, sitting at the small table at the back wall. The room was musty from lack of use, but several degrees cooler than outside, which Zelda appreciated. She unclipped the Sheikah Slate from her belt, opening the picture of the ancient carving she had encountered. The marble was worn smooth by time, the Gerudo script blurred around the edges. It was still legible, and according to Urbosa, seemed to reference a lost spring hidden deep in the wasteland.

“This dialect isn’t used anymore, but I’m fairly certain this says ‘dragon’s exile’,” Urbosa had mused after poring over the script. “I don’t know of any place like that on our maps, but there are reports of a large, mysterious skeleton laying near Arbiter’s Grounds.”

Zelda was nearly bursting with excitement. “I’ve got to go there!” she exclaimed. “I could be ready by tomorrow. I’ll purchase provisions from the market, and—”

“Go there? To Arbiter’s Grounds?” Urbosa shook her head, her jewelry jingling faintly. “No, little bird. That part of the desert is devastatingly hot, and colder than the Hebra Mountains at night. It’s also home to a beast that senses people walking on the sand… even my best soldiers have perished there.”

“But it might be another spring!” Zelda protested. “Why not take Vah Naboris there? It can travel miles within minutes.”

“You know what the king’s orders are. The Divine Beasts stay put, lest they need to be called upon.”

Zelda clenched her fists, pressing her knuckles into her thighs. “I’ve heard nothing at the Springs of Power and Courage,” she said bitterly. “What if Ganon awakens within the month I must wait to visit the Spring of Wisdom? Urbosa, you must see my point—this spring might be the key to unlocking my power!”

Urbosa leaned across the table and squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. “Your power will never awaken if you’re dead,” she said, not unkindly. “I’m sorry, little bird. You’re already doing your best—don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. All you can do right now is wait.”

“What does it mean?”

Zelda jolted back to the present; Link was behind her, peering over her shoulder. “Urbosa said it meant ‘dragon’s exile’,” she explained, turning. “I wanted to—oh.”

“What?”

Link hadn’t put his tunic on all the way yet. He had mostly gotten it over his head, his arms straight up, exposing a thick, ropy scar under his left arm. Zelda looked away, suddenly bashful. She’d seen him shirtless before—what was the matter with her?

“It’s nothing. I wanted to go to the top of the lookout and see if I can find that skeleton Urbosa mentioned.”

Zelda was unafraid of heights; she spent so much time aboard the colossal Divine Beasts that she had grown used to it. The rickety, narrow ladder that reached at least thirty feet into the sky, however, made her very nervous. Link went first, as he always did, the ancient wood creaking and swaying under his weight. Zelda went next, trusting her feet to find the rungs and not daring to look down.

The platform was barely large enough for two people, built of sturdy wood but without handrails to hang on to as the fierce wind buffeted their bodies. Link put his hand on her shoulder to steady her as Zelda turned the Slate to its telescopic mode, peering at the screen.

The desert stretched vast and featureless before her as she shifted, using the sun’s position to orient herself towards the southwest. A peculiar lush islet rose from the sands; beyond it, no landmarks were visible.

“I see the Southern Oasis,” Zelda called over the wind. “According to Urbosa’s maps, it’s a midway point between here and Arbiter’s Grounds.”

“You took some of her maps?”

“Of course not! I memorised them.”

“You’re impressive.”

Zelda was thankful for the cloak’s hood that hid her blush as they proceeded back down the ladder.

The trouble with using the scope was that it warped the perception of distance. Zelda had expected a two hour ride, but since she was unfamiliar with seal-riding, it seemed as though it would take even longer. By midday, the sun’s rays were beating down with such intensity that Zelda could feel the heat radiating from the metal sledge through her boot soles. Her knees and back ached abominably, her fingers chapped and raw from holding the reins.

A sudden jolt—had she hit a rock? The reins slackened, and then snapped taut, tearing right out of Zelda’s hands. Sand filled her mouth and nose as she tumbled to the ground, her momentum making her roll more than three times before she finally came to a stop.

“_Zelda!_”

She spat, grit coating her tongue. Warmth trickled down her forehead, mixing the sand into clay—the wound on her forehead had reopened. Link’s arm was around her in a second, propping her into a sitting position.

“Did I hit a rock again?”

“What? No,” said Link, his eyebrows furrowing. “I just looked behind me, and you were on the ground…”

“Link? What’s wrong?”

His eyes had found a spot to the left. She started to turn, but he shook his head.

_Don’t move, _he mouthed, inching away from her.

Frozen, Zelda turned her gaze as far as she could without moving her head. There, so well camouflaged that she nearly missed it, a pair of bulbous yellow eyes blinked.

Link’s sledge was a couple meters away, the rucksack tossed to the side in his desperation to get to her. He crab-crawled towards it, painstakingly slow, his eyes never leaving the Lizalfos buried in the sand…

The sand-seal caught sight of it and yelped, diving forward; the monster jumped straight out of its hiding spot, landing directly on Link’s chest. He cried out in pain and fear as it tore at him with hooked talons, shearing through his leather armour.

Zelda screamed; the creature’s head whipped around, vicious glee illuminating its yellow eyes. It leapt at her, tongue lashing, but Zelda’s strong legs and quick reflexes saved her as she kicked it square in the face. Something cracked; the Lizalfos shrieked, ichor leaking from its mouth and nostrils. Link had made it to the rucksack, pulling at the wrapped Master Sword, its purple hilt gleaming—

Link was the fastest swordsman in the kingdom, capable of finishing off opponents in seconds, but he was no match for the sheer speed of a Lizalfos. It was on him in a second, and they rolled over and over, Link grappling with it to keep those hideous talons away. Talons that curved, glittering like the blade of a sickle…

The Lizalfos snapped, its teeth centimetres from Link’s nose.

A sudden madness seized Zelda’s mind. From her boot she pulled the jade-handled knife, its blade still as keen as the day it was forged. Letting loose a battle cry, she charged the monster, jumping onto its back and wrapping one arm around its neck. It shrieked, tossing its head around in a desperate attempt to throw her to the ground, but Zelda held on grimly, raising the dagger…

She plunged the blade into the top of its head.

The Lizalfos gurgled, slackening beneath her. Zelda knew that such monsters were soft-skulled and it was certainly a mortal blow, but the madness had her stabbing it again and again until it finally lay still.

With a sucking sound, she pulled the dagger from its corpse and let it fall, the ichor shockingly dark on the white sand. Grunting, Link heaved the rapidly stiffening body off of himself and sat up, gingerly pulling at the blood-soaked, ruined fabric on his chest. Zelda could only stare, hollow.

“I’m not hurt,” he insisted, shedding the now useless padding beneath his tunic. “Barely grazed me. See?”

She couldn’t see—all that filled her mind was that white mask of the assassin, the flash of his sickle, the squelching sounds as she’d pierced the monster’s brain…

“Hey.”

She started. Link’s face was suddenly right before hers. His eyes weren’t as light as she’d thought; they were flecked with dark blue and brown. Both his hands were on her shoulders, squeezing gently.

“It’s hard, the first time you kill,” he said softly. “I still remember my first time, and it’s been more than ten years. Taking a life is taking a life, even if it is just a monster.”

Tears spilled from Zelda’s eyes; she looked away, moving one her stiff arms to wipe them away.

“It’s terrifying, and you’ll dream about it for a while,” he continued. “But it’s not like with that assassin. Now you know you can defend yourself.”

Zelda hiccupped, trembling all over. “I-I’m not strong enough—”

“But you are. You just saved my ass!” He laughed. “The only reason I’m not torn to ribbons right now is because of you.”

Zelda chuckled hoarsely. “Please. You had it handled.”

“Well, maybe. I might have lived, but you saved me from a pretty brutal shredding. I see some guys training, and their whole torsos are absolutely covered in scars.” He shuddered. “I never want to look like that. Just the glory, hold the mutilation.”

Zelda scrubbed at her face with her sleeve, satisfied that the tears and remaining blood from her forehead had been banished. She picked up her dagger, grimacing—sticky dark ichor had stained the jade, crusting inside the carved ridges that formed the owl.

“You always have to clean your blade,” Link explained, serious once again. “Like this:”

He took a handful of sand and carefully scrubbed at the dagger; gradually, the dried ichor began to flake off. He passed it handle-first to Zelda, who copied his actions. It was a solemn moment, almost like a rite of passage as he silently watched her rid the steel of the Lizalfos’ blood and return the blade to its sheath.

“There,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “My father taught me to do the same, and now I’ve taught you. You’ve got a warrior’s hands now, Zelda.”

As they resumed their journey, Zelda found herself looking more carefully at her white fingers, wrapped tight around the reins. They were chapped, rough, and still stained with ichor. _Certainly not a princess’ hands, _she thought.

She found herself watching Link’s back, the way his body effortlessly swayed to regain balance, moving like a dancer. No, not a princess’ hands at all.

Warrior’s hands.


	3. Molduga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in uploading a new chapter! I promise I'll update as often as possible for you folks in the future, although I will warn you that I'll be starting uni again soon AND trying to work part-time *shudders*. I can promise I'll be working on this for every spare moment that I have-- I'm determined to complete this.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

_III- Molduga_

A chill wind ran its way through Zelda’s hair as they finally arrived at the oasis, the skies streaked with pink and fiery orange. It was even more peculiar up close, reaching at least twenty feet above their heads. It seemed as if it were man-made; an old well, perhaps, as Zelda noticed various types of fungi filling the cracks in the stone. The greenery that she had spotted from the lookout was now invisible, unless she craned her neck as far back at it would go.

The multitude of crevices made for an easy climb; Link made his way to the top in less than five minutes, lowering the pulley he had devised with a length of strong rope. Steadily, they moved all of their supplies to the top of the oasis.

Before ascending for the night, Zelda fed her seal a slice of apple, giggling as its whiskers tickled her palm.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she whispered, scratching the soft crest atop its head. It slitted its eyes in pleasure. Link’s seal keened in indignation, headbutting her arm, and she gave it a slice as well. As she turned to begin her climb, the pulley fell to the sand beside her. She shook her head, but put her foot into the loop and tugged the rope twice. The seals’ dark eyes followed her as she rose, strongly reminding her of her father’s dogs that begged her for scraps whenever she made her way to the dining hall. She was sorry she’d ever felt repulsed by them, smelly or not.

Link was red in the face and puffing by the time she reached the zenith. “I could have climbed up,” she said crossly, reaching for the bundle of tent pegs and removing the band that held them together. “Sometimes you behave as though I’m made of glass.”

“Felt more like you’re made of rock roast,” Link muttered. He expertly dodged the peg lobbed at his head, turning his attention to the package of rations.

It seemed that this place, like the lookout post, had once been frequented by soldiers. The clearing in which they were now setting up camp was not natural: stumps of palm trees dotted the ground and small bushes had begun to struggle upwards through the remains of their forebears. A cooking pot was already assembled on the bank of a clear pool of water that now reflected Saria, the first evening star. Link had a fire roaring beneath it in no time, staving off the bitter chill that had descended with the sun; the crackle of fat and scent of roasting steak and mushrooms filled the air. Zelda busied herself with the tent, which was easily large enough for three people and for one to stand inside without slouching.

Of course, there had been a time when Link would have set up camp alone. Zelda used to simply sulk by herself, pretending to be engrossed in the Sheikah Slate while he erected the tent and made dinner. She recalled her indignation that first overnight expedition when she had seen Link’s bedroll set up on one side— “How dare you assume that you’ll be sharing quarters with me? You can sleep outside!” He had accepted her rebuke in silence, as was his way. It was only when she was awakened by a thunderclap and driving rain that she had relented…

Zelda pushed the memory aside as she carefully laid out Link’s bedroll, taking care to plump the ragged pillow he always brought with him. All was forgiven now; there was no use in reliving her selfishness.

Dinner was spent in comfortable silence. They both were worn out by the day’s ride and the scuffle with the Lizalfos; Zelda still felt somewhat edgy, constantly looking over her shoulder in fear of another pair of yellow eyes. Of course, they were so high above the sands that no monster could possibly trouble them, and Link now kept his sword within arm's reach at all times.

It was that reassuring thought and her tremendous weariness that allowed her to sleep so easily, not even bothering to comb out her plait before laying upon her bedroll. She had barely pulled her wool blanket around her before her eyes fell shut.

It was still dark when she woke, and she shivered as she sat upright. A high wail pierced the night, sending a sliver of ice into Zelda’s heart. She drew her knife, reaching for Link’s arm to shake him awake, but her fingers encountered only his blankets.

Zelda bolted barefoot from the tent, nearly slipping on the cool moss carpeting the stone. To her relief, Link stood atop an outcropping near the islet’s edge, stringing his bow. She drew closer, trembling, the jade handle of her dagger slick with sweat.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Link nocked an arrow, eyes serious. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “It was gone before I came outside, but… it went after the seals.”

“No!”

Zelda raced to the edge, sending pebbles scattering over the side. Splotches of blood mottled the sand below, torn strips of leather and cloth strewn around the scene. Her breath caught in her throat as she recalled their trusting looks as she’d climbed to the peak…

“We shouldn’t have left them,” she said miserably. Link patted her shoulder reassuringly, stepping up to the edge.

“Whatever got them would’ve only gotten us too.” There was a rough edge to his voice; to her surprise, Zelda saw that he was blinking away tears. “It must’ve been big, whatever it was. The ground shook—I’m surprised it didn’t wake you.”

Zelda willed herself to stay strong and hone her focus, pushing the animals’ fate out of her mind. She lifted the Sheikah Slate, using it to assist in scanning the immediate area. The silvery dunes went on for kilometres, vast and empty save for the lights Gerudo Town in the far distance.

“I don’t see a thing,” she said, baffled. “How could something large enough to shake the ground simply disappear?”

“Maybe it’s camouflaged? Like the Lizalfos.”

“That could be… Do you feel that?”

There was a slight rumbling under her feet. Link took a step away from the edge—as the rumbling intensified, bits of the stone began to crumble away, plummeting to the ground below. A peculiar mound was growing from the sand…

A mound that was moving, accelerating towards the oasis.

Zelda gasped, swaying on the spot as it all came together: the beast was traveling _beneath _the sand, tunneling towards their location at terrifying speed. Link drew the bowstring, the glint in his eye as sharp as the arrowhead.

The mound drew closer, closer; a spray of sand erupted upwards, a massive dark shape enshrouded inside. To Zelda’s shock, the beast had leapt nearly fifteen feet into the air. It landed back on the ground with terrific force, sending a shockwave all the way up to where they stood. Zelda nearly pitched forwards off the edge, saved by Link snatching the back of her tunic at the last second. The beast writhed on the sand, screaming its frustration, and Zelda could not help herself from peering over the edge at it for a better look.

A large, triangular fin jutted from beneath its chin, acting almost like a scoop to direct its prey into the glistening fangs that adorned its pink gums. Skeletal spikes ran along its spine all the way back to its tail, which was club-shaped and rippled with powerful muscle. If anything, it resembled a colossal fish: something ancient that should have fossilised eons ago on the ocean floor. Zelda scrambled to remember its name as it righted itself and prepared to submerge—_Molduga. _

Link had readied his aim once again and fired; the arrow flew true between its scarlet eyes but bounced harmlessly away. The beast burrowed beneath the sands, sending another tremor up through the stone.

Link swore, snatching another arrow from the quiver belted round his waist. “I’ll have to hit it in the eye!” he shouted over the rumbling. “Get away from that edge!”

Zelda crab-crawled away as the Molduga exploded upwards once again, snapping its jaws less than ten feet shy of the islet’s peak. Link’s body relaxed as he took a deep breath, and Zelda could suddenly see exactly what was about to happen.

Link had been known as the best swordsman in Hyrule long before he had ever laid eyes on the Master Sword. At age four, he could already defeat grown men in combat, relieving them of their weapons within seconds. By age eleven, he was already training with the seventeen-year-olds to become a knight.

“I can’t really explain it,” he had said with a shrug when Zelda had pressed him. “Sometimes when I focus, it feels almost like time is slowing down for me. I can see openings that other people can’t.”

Link’s mother, Medilia, had died when he was very young, but had apparently possessed a similar ability. There was a ballad sung about the arrogant Rito warrior who had challenged a Hylian woman to an archery trial—the Rito on wing, the woman on horseback—and had lost to her. Unable to heal the wound that had been dealt to his pride, he had fled to the Hebra Mountains, never to be seen again. It was rumoured that the king himself had considered allowing her an exception to join the Royal Guard, as women were forbidden to serve.

Link released the arrow, seconds too early to Zelda’s eyes—but just before the arrow reached the scaled eyelid of the Molduga, that lid opened. It squarely struck the dark pupil, only to fall away once again.

Link threw his bow to the ground, his rapid-fire curses nearly turning the air around him blue. Zelda smacked herself in the forehead.

“Of course! How could I be so stupid?” She watched in dismay as the beast vanished into the sand once again. “The Molduga’s eyes have a transparent shield—an evolutionary leftover from its aquatic ancestors. It evolved when the oceanwater drained away eons ago, but it must have kept the shield so it can see where it’s going while underground. It was all in that book—”

“I don’t suppose the book said how to kill it?”

Zelda deflated. “Er, no. In fact, I believe it said that ‘the Molduga is known for its natural impenetrable armour, making it the undisputed apex predator of the Gerudo Wastes.’”

Link picked up his bow, checking it over for damage before unstringing it. “Well, then that’s that.”

Zelda flinched as the Molduga made another leap for them, the impact rattling her teeth. Link padded back to the tent, leaving the bow and the neatly coiled string by the entrance.

“What do you plan to do?”

Link shrugged, unphased as the beast let out a deafening shriek. “Go back to bed.”

“_What?_”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “My arrows obviously aren’t going to make a dent in that thing, and I don’t fancy going down there and whacking at it with my sword. It’ll snap me up like an apple fritter.” He spread his arms wide, indicating the way the camp was laid out. “I’ll bet the Gerudo used this place to wait out that thing. If we’re patient enough, it’ll get frustrated and give up on us.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I’m just impressed, that’s all.” Zelda crossed her arms. “You deduced all of that before I did.”

“You have to have some idea of strategy to become a knight. There’s more to me than just hitting things.”

“There is?”

Another spray of sand and furious shriek interrupted their banter, sobering them to the seriousness of their situation. They retreated into the tent, crawling into their bedrolls without another word. Zelda, however, clasped her hands and mouthed a few desperate prayers to the Goddess before falling into a light and uneasy slumber.

All through the night the Molduga raged and thrashed, filling Zelda’s restless dreams with hellish cries for her blood. She dreamed of wicked steel slicing at her arms, of bulbous eyes erupting from Link’s naked torso as he staggered towards her, crying piteously for her help, and of an ominous dark cloud covering the tallest spires of Hyrule Castle, forks of scarlet lightning illuminating it from within.


	4. Politics of the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! It has been an inexcusably long time since I've updated this!
> 
> I changed my major to History, and it's been way more work than I expected. I did manage to hammer this chapter out, and I had a lot of fun doing it, and by God I AM going to finish this story. I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it. 
> 
> Thank you all for bearing with me!

_IV- Politics of the Heart_

The sheer heat of the morning sun woke Zelda long before its light reached the opening of the tent. Stiffly, she sat up, pushing aside her now-suffocating cloak. Beads of sweat adorned her forehead; she brushed them away, careful to avoid her wound. Link’s bedroll was empty, his blankets already folded with military precision. She slipped on a fresh pair of socks and her boots, and then stepped out into the scorching morning.

Link was crouched beside the cooking spot, a damp triangle of sweat already appearing on the back of his tunic. His hair was pulled into a knot on top of his head, exposing his sunburnt neck. The set of his shoulders betrayed his bad mood.

“Did you have nightmares?” he asked, not turning.

“Yes. Did you?”

He didn’t answer, but pointed to the outcropping where they had stood the night before. Silently, fighting back the dread welling within her breast, Zelda made her way to the edge.

The Molduga laid just below her, turned belly-up and sunning itself. Upon her approach, one scaly eyelid cracked open, peering up at her. Its jaws parted just enough to show its yellowed fangs; it almost seemed to be grinning smugly at her. Zelda ground her teeth, turning on her heel to storm back to the fire.

Link handed her a meager serving of fried greens—less than half of what they’d consumed for supper. Zelda was hardly a voracious eater, but she finished it all in less than a minute, her stomach grumbling for more.

The question pressed down on them like a heavy cloud: _What now? _The spring provided an adequate source of water; the real concern was their food supply. Undoubtedly, Urbosa would eventually notice their absence, busy as she was—but could they hold out until rescue came? Zelda tilted her head back, staring hopefully up into the leaves of the palm trees. It wasn’t the season yet, but even unripe fruit…

Her thoughts were distracted by a low muttering. Across from her, sitting cross-legged, Link was tying a thin strip of leather into a series of knots. His lips moved with his fingers, the words rhythmic but nonsensical to Zelda’s ears. More knots appeared, grouping in threes and sevens.

It took her a while to decide whether to interrupt. “I didn’t know you could speak more languages than just Hylian and Common.”

Link fell silent, laying the knotted string on his thigh. “I can’t,” he said. “It’s an impossibly old chant, but they said it staves off curses.”

_They?_

“What sort of curses?” she asked instead.

Link wiped at his cheeks. “It’s bad luck to let a horse die and not return its bones to the land.”

A chill shivered down Zelda’s spine.

“I know seals aren’t horses, but it still feels wrong.” He sighed, running his fingers over the string. “I’ll bury this once we get on the ground again. Then Malanya will be appeased.”

“…Malanya?”

A slight smile quirked at the corner of Link’s mouth. “I realise that as a knight I swore allegiance to Hylia… but lots of common folk worship other gods. Malanya is the one who watches over horses. Even after my father joined the military, he kept an altar in her honour back home in Hateno.”

Zelda pressed her lips together. She was aware that some in Hyrule followed false deities, but it was a fact that nobody had dared speak aloud in her presence. But then again… Hylia had never revealed any trace of her presence to Zelda.

The fleeting thought that the Goddess might not exist except as a fable opened such a yawning abyss in Zelda’s sense of reality that she felt nauseated. She pushed the blasphemous thoughts away, shaken.

“Father always said I was favoured by Malanya,” Link continued, tying more knots. “When he would be sent away and I couldn’t come with, I’d often stay and work at Lon Ranch.”

“That’s where Fionn was bred!” Zelda exclaimed. “I never realised you worked there. Of course, I never spoke to the stablehands; only Lon or a woman a little older than me…”

“Tall? Long red hair?” Link laughed. “That’s Malon, his daughter. I’ve known her for a long time.”

“Is that so?” Malon’s image swam into her mind—her copper locks were certainly distinctive, but she would be strikingly beautiful even without them. With a slight clench somewhere in her gut, Zelda also recalled that Malon… well, for lack of a polite way to put it, Malon had enormous breasts.

Link chuckled, oblivious to Zelda’s jealousy. “I remember hardly being able to get any work done when she was around. The other stablehands and I used to fight over which one of us would get to marry her.” Link winked, sending a poison barb through Zelda’s heart. “I could tell she liked me best, though.”

“Nothing became of that, obviously,” said Zelda, venom creeping into her voice. Link looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” he said breezily. “I’m a noble, after all.”

“What about other girls, then?” _Hylia, why am I torturing myself?_

Link’s face became a little pinker, although it was difficult to tell due to his sunburn. “Honestly… I’ve never felt at ease around women. I get nervous.”

“I’m a woman,” said Zelda matter-of-factly.

“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. Having gotten to the end of the string, Link placed it aside. He stretched out, gazing up at the clear sky.

“I’ve never felt like I fit in with the other knights,” he admitted. “Even before I drew the Master Sword, I was younger than all of them, and didn’t have the same confidence. They would go to bars, bring back women, send those women away when they were finished with them… Sorry,” he added, seeing the look on Zelda’s face. “I know. Young knights are pigs, and I never wanted to be like them.”

“So you never went to those bars.”

Link’s jaw moved. “Um… _officially, _I was too young to be allowed in. But I did get in. Just once. But I never went back again.”

Zelda’s curiousity triumphed over her revulsion. “What happened?”

“Well… it was my fifteenth birthday. I’d just been officially knighted a week before. The others told me I ought to celebrate, so they brought me along to a bar and vouched for my age so I could get in. We drank some mead.” He hesitated. “I… I need you to know I’m not proud of this.”

Zelda put a hand to her mouth. “Hylia, what did you _do?_”

“I pinched the barmaid’s bum.” Link buried his face in his hands.

A sharp peal of laughter burst from Zelda’s mouth—she hadn’t meant to laugh, but now that she had started, it was impossible to stop.

The tips of Link’s ears were scarlet. “The others goaded me into it. I knew better, but I did it anyway.”

Zelda gasped, wiping away tears as she struggled to contain herself. “What happened after that?”

“She glassed me. The others had to carry me out.”

“I’m not even sorry for you,” said Zelda, fighting another wave of laughter. “You deserved it.”

“Yep, I did. I was a real bastard. I went back the next day to apologise, but the owner told me to fuck off and never come back.”

“Well, that was decent of you.”

Link shrugged. “It was the least I could do.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Maybe I’m being too familiar, but haven’t you ever fancied someone?”

Zelda desperately hoped the heat rising to her cheeks wasn’t visible. “Of course not,” she said hotly. “Nobody would dare try to romance me.”

“Just because nobody romances you doesn’t mean you’ve never wished someone would.”

Zelda turned her gaze away, fearful it might betray her. “No. I’ve never wished that,” she lied. “I’m likely to end up in a political marriage regardless.”

“I know all about that.”

Zelda’s brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

He looked at her curiously. “Because I’m betrothed to Mipha, remember?”

The realisation was not unlike the feeling that someone had cracked an egg over her head; an ugly shock, and an unpleasant sensation rolling down her back.

Betrothed. He was somebody else’s; the Zora princess's, renowned for her skill with a spear and a pilot of a Divine Beast. Who was Zelda compared to her? A princess, certainly, but she had no merit of her own. She had no Divine Beast to command, and was deaf to the calls of the Goddess that her ancestors had heard. Mipha was a gentle soul, her golden eyes kind and empathetic, but in that moment Zelda hated her.

“I never knew,” she said faintly.

“Really? It’s old news. My father and the Zora king go way back. Almost right when I was born, King Dorephan offered the betrothal.”

“And you’re… alright with that? Having your future decided for you?”

Link shrugged. “There’s worse people to marry.”

“Do you love her?” she demanded.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course! My father loved my mother more than anything!”

“Did your mother love him?”

Zelda opened her mouth, but faltered, realising she was uncertain. Her mother had passed away when she was only six, but Zelda had been a perceptive child. The king was always preoccupied with political affairs, rarely spending time with his wife and daughter—in fact, it wasn’t until the queen’s death that Zelda ever heard her father say that he had loved her. Urbosa was the queen’s most frequent companion; they had grown up together and remained close right to the end of her days. If Queen Zelda had loved anyone that way… it could only have been Urbosa.

“I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

“It’s fine,” said Zelda, her thoughts still on Urbosa. “Most political marriages aren’t for love.”

“I don’t have romantic feelings for Mipha,” Link admitted, “but I’ve always suspected she might. I guess I thought it was easier to be betrothed. I'll have a wife who loves me. What else could I need?”

“To love her back.”

Link nodded, clasping his hands together. “Exactly.”

There was a moment of silence, broken when Zelda’s stomach suddenly and loudly rumbled.

“I’m hungry,” she said drily.

Link got to his feet. “Me too. I think it’s about time to bust open that crate and see what’s inside.”

A large wooden crate covered in bold Gerudo script occupied the opposite bank of the spring, wrapped with a rusted chain. They made their way over to it, checking it over for any weaknesses. Zelda tugged at the chain; orange flakes coated her fingertips.

“These links could easily be prised apart,” she commented.

“I really wish you’d reconsider your choice of words.” Link unsheathed the Master Sword. “Step aside.”

The chain clattered to the ground a second later. Standing on his toes, he inserted the blade into one of the slats, using it as a prybar. He grunted, muscles straining from the effort.

“I’m this close to hacking the bloody thing to splinters.”

“Keep trying,” Zelda advised. “I hear the nails—”

With a sharp crack, the board gave way. Dozens of odd, round fruits spilled out; their skin a deep cerulean, but adorned with a red flower where the stem would be. They looked strangely familiar…

Link picked one up, running his fingers over its waxy surface. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he remarked. “Reckon it tastes good?”

She had seen one illustrated in a book before… Hylia, why couldn’t she remember?

“I guess you eat it like an apple?” Absently, he plucked the red flower, letting it float gently to the ground.

Suddenly, with that action, Zelda remembered what the fruits were used for.

With a cry, she lunged at Link, snatching the fruit and throwing it with as much force as she could muster away from them.

Even twenty feet away, the force of the explosion threw her back into the spring.


End file.
